


Good things come to those who hustle

by LittleDanvers



Series: she can score when she wants [1]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, also Allie, soft soccer gays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 03:33:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16210541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleDanvers/pseuds/LittleDanvers
Summary: Tobin’s a sore loser and Christen finds out good things really do come to those who hustle — not that she’s admitting it was a hustle...or the time that Christen beats Tobin at Mario Kart





	Good things come to those who hustle

It’s Wednesday night, 8:30pm, Christen is freshly showered— the floral scent of the body wash Ash had gotten her still lingering on her skin— hair pulled up in a loose knot atop her head, a few stray curls framing her face and neck, all cozy in her favorite pajamas, (the silky pink ones that have the pretty flowers on them) and sitting cross legged on her hotel bed enjoying the silence.

 

Her day planner and favorite blue pen are laid out in front of her just waiting to be used. It’s definitely the kind of night Christen needs.

 

She’s rooming with Allie this trip; deep in the heart of Texas and Allie, the sweet human that she is has given Christen some time alone —while she scouts out a perfect bar for girls night — on the condition that Christen attends and has a few drinks.

 

It was an offer she didn’t have to think too long on; time alone? Yes please. A night out with great friends? Most definitely. It was win win.

 

Christen is just finishing her deep breathing exercises when there’s a knock at the door. She’s slow moving, relaxed and not really wanting to break that spell, as she shuffles to the door.

 

She opens it slowly to find Tobin leaning up against the frame — always so effortlessly comfortable— looking down at her phone screen.

 

Christen waits silently, shoulder pressed up against the door, until Tobin speaks.

 

“Nice pjs.” It’s not at all what Christen’s expecting as Tobinreaches forward, her fingers fiddling with the fabric of the top where it rests against Christen’s hip bone. “They’re soft.”

 

“Thanks.” Christen manages, her cheeks turning pink as she avoids Tobin’s eyes.

 

Tobin slips past her into the room and flops down on Allie’s still made bed. “Allie around?”

 

Christen shuts the door and makes her way back to her bed, settling back against her pillows, “nope she’s out flirting with cute guys.”

 

Tobin groans and Christen laughs.

 

“But I’m bored and she promised to play Mario Kart with me.” Tobin says waving her Nintendo switch around pitifully.

 

Christen can’t help the smile pulling at her lips, “you’re welcome to wait here.”

 

Tobin shuffles her self up against the headboard, kicking downthe comforter and adjusting the pillows, as Christen watches her with curiosity, “what? I’m getting comfy. That girl can flirt, I could be here a while.”

 

Christen just shakes her head, grabbing her planner and pen, as Tobin abandons the Nintendo switch and instead starts scrolling through her phone.

 

Christen’s not exactly sure how much time has passed, but she’s got her check list of things for tomorrow done and neatly written out and everything she accomplished today has been checked off, and it feels great.

 

Her eyes are scanning over the pages, always double checking, so when the bed dips and Tobin’s body gently collides with hers — shoulders to hips— it startles her.

 

Tobin’s chin is resting on her shoulder and Christen feels warm all over, especially warm in all the places they’re currently connected, “Chris I’m bored. Wanna play me?”

 

Christen’s eyes don’t leave her planner, she knows that if she makes eye contact she’ll be met with Tobin’s puppy dog eyes.

 

“I mean once you’re finished writing in your _diary_.”

 

Christen snaps her planner closed tossing it to the foot of the bed as she slowly turns to meet Tobin’s gaze, “it’s a planner.”

 

“Cool. So you wanna play? I can teach you.” Tobin offers up.

 

Christen’s smile is slow, she’scurrently the reigning Mario Kart Champion of any and all Press family get togethers, but Tobin doesn’t know this and it seems fitting retribution for assuming Christen doesn’t even know how to play.

 

“Teach me? I don’t know Tobin I’ve heard you’re not a very good teacher.”

 

“From who? Harry?” Tobin questions, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Christen just smiles. “Come on Chris! I can’t help it that she’s not a quick learner. I’m sure you’ll pick it up way faster than her.”

 

Tobin’s already grabbing Allie’sswitch and kneeling beside her, breath warm and distracting against Christen’s neck as she walks her through the intricacies of the game.

 

“You smell nice.” Tobin mumbles it into the side of Christen’s head and Christen’s eyes close because it feels like a lot; Tobin’s breath tickling against her ear, and they’re not really touching but somehow Tobin is surrounding her, it’s almost too much, which is insane because it’s actually nothing.

 

Christen’s words feel clumsy in her mouth, “umm, thanks. I shower. I mean, I’ve showered— today.” She feels Tobin’s laughter, the way it gently knocks their shoulders together, and immediately her heart starts beating faster.

 

Christen plays well enough that Tobin’s eyes are lighting up at the prospect of actually getting to play with her but definitely not well enough that Tobin would ever suspect she’d lose to her.

 

And Tobin doesn’t lose to her — not yet at least —she wins the first four games they play, “you’re getting better Chris, I might have some actual competition soon!”

 

They’re sitting side by side on Christen’s bed, shoulder to shoulder, legs stretched out in front of them. Christen glances over at Tobin and Tobin’s all furrowed brow and tilted head, and she has to look away because Tobin’s so pretty and it’s making her stomach swoop and she needs to focus.

 

“Okay Tobs, I’m calling it. This has to be our last game. Allie has obviously ditched you,” Tobin pouts at that, “and as much fun as I’m having we do have an early practice tomorrow. So how‘bout we make it interesting. Winner of this one gets a prize!”

 

Tobin laughs, it’s deep and she’s smiling wide, and if Christen’s honest it makes her a little breathless. “Well then I wanna read your _diary_.”

 

Christen gives her a shove, “it’s a day planner you dork. And that’s such a dumb prize.” Tobin just shrugs, smile on her lips. “Okay fine,” Christen says rolling her eyes dramatically, “ you can read my _day_ _planner_. And if I win I want your sweatshirt.”

 

“My sweatshirt? This one?” Tobin’s pulling at the material of her green hoodie.

 

“Mhmmm” Christen’s nodding her head smiling.

 

“This is my favorite sweatshirt,” which Christen already knows. It’s a pretty dark green color and it’s soft and it’s funny — an adorable piece of toast with the caption all my friends are baked embroidered below it — and Christen loves it too. She watches Tobin smile cockily, “It’s a deal.”

 

The game doesn’t last long because Christen doesn’t hold back and Princess Peach never leaves first place.

 

Christen leans across Tobin to set down her switch on the night table, her fingers tugging at the collar of Tobin’s sweatshirt, “so, when can I collect my winnings?” Christen’s smile is all teeth, her eyes sparkling and it’s such a dead give away.

 

“Did you just hustle me?” Tobin’s voice is low as she turns to face Christen.

 

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing.” Christen says as the laughter starts to bubble up her throat.

 

“Christen Press, did you just hustle me out of my most favorite sweatshirt in the world?” Tobin’s slowly rising to her knees, her eyes never leaving Christen’s.

 

“I don’t think hustle is technically the right word,” Christen taps her index finger against her lips, “I mean is it technically a hustle if your opponent vastly underestimates your knowledge of the game?”

 

Tobin’s eyes flash wide, jaw dropping open and Christen doesn’t even have a second to brace for it before Tobin’s straddling her waist and pinning her arms down on either side of her head.

 

“You’re such a cheater Christen! I expected better from you.”

 

Tobin’s hair is falling over her shoulder and her thighs are pressing in hard against Christen’s hips, and Christen’s dizzy —wishes she could blame it on the sudden impact— but she knows it’s the weight of Tobin settled on top her that’s making her head spin.

 

“Don’t be a sore loser Tobin. It’s not a good look on you.” Christen really wishes she didn’t sound quite as breathless as she does, but she can’t seem to get her breathing under control.

 

Tobin releases Christen’s wrists and reaches for the hem of her sweatshirt, slowly pulling it over her head. Christen’s eyes immediately go to the small expanse of tanned skin just above Tobin’s hip bone where her joggers ride low and her T-shirt is being pulled up by the removal of the sweat shirt.

 

She wants to taste it. Trace her fingers against it. Dig her nails into it.

 

Tobin’s staring down at her and Christen can’t remember when she last blinked, but her eyelashes flutter at the thought, as she slowly drags her eyes up Tobin’s body to meet hers.

 

Something’s shifted — the mood, their feelings, _the whole damn world_ — it’s heavy in the best way possible.

 

Tobin’s leaning down slowly, her fingers are tracing along Christen’s arms— which are still laying motionless beside her head —until they’re circling around Christen’s wrists again, tethering her to this moment.

 

It’s feels right. It feels _so good_.

 

It has Christen’s hips rolling up against Tobin’s —just barely—but she knows Tobin feels it because she’s nosing up along Christen’s neck now until her lips are resting against the shell of her ear.“I mean it’s not that bad of a look on me is it?” Tobin whispers.

 

She’s hovering so close to Christen’s face now that they’re almost touching.

 

Christen’s teeth sink into her bottom lip as she shakes her head from side to side, “you look good.”

 

“Chris?” Tobin’s voice is throaty and Christen’s never ever heard her name said like that. She swears they’re getting closer, feels like she’ll never be close enough to Tobin. “Chris? I’m going to kiss you.”

 

Christen’s nodding, a breathy “ _please_ ,” slipping out from between her lips as Tobin closes the distance.

 

It’s slow— Tobin never rushes— and heated in a way that has Christen craving more.

 

Tobin’s licking into her mouth —thumbs rubbing slow circles into the skin of Christen’s wrists— and it has Christen melting.

 

Christen wants be touching Tobin, feels it in her finger tips. She tries to slip free from Tobin’s grip — needs her fingers tangled in Tobin’s hair right now —but Tobin’s fingers tighten around her wrists pushing them just a little more firmly into the bed.

 

And _fuck_ it feels good.

 

She moans into Tobin’s mouth all hot and needy. Christen feels like she’s on fire, like every single part of her being is burning up.

 

“You like _this_?” Tobin’s voice is so fucking low and the way she’s nodding up towards Christen’s trapped hands has Christen’s insides clenching because, _yeah_ , she likes it. A lot.

 

She tries to tell her that, wants her to know just how good she’s making her feel but before she can Tobin’s jumping off her and making a dive for Allie’s bed.

 

“Hooooooney I’m home,” Allie’s sing song voice fills the room.

 

Christen’s mortified at just how close they were to getting caught — she’s trying to regulate her breathing, shuffling herself up against the head board trying to look like Tobin didn’t just have her on the edge of a fucking orgasm from a kiss — she looks over at Tobin before Allie rounds the corner and it’s such a mistake because Tobin’s got this lopsided grin like that wasn’t even the beginning of what she wanted to do.

 

“Harry!!!” Allie shouts as she launches herself at Tobin. “You keeping Pressy company while I was out?”

 

“Yep.” The way that Tobin pops the ‘p’ has Christen fighting back a blush.

 

Allie looks between the two, eyes traveling back and forth, and Christen’s pretty sure they look more than a little guilty but Tobin’s distracting her— “I mean since someone ditched me to go flirt with cute guys”—before she can travel too far into the over analyzing.

 

“Ohh speaking of,” Allie’s got her hands clasped together, “we only found the perfect dive bar ever and we’re doing a girls night on Friday because Saturday is practice free!!” She cheers raising her hands to the sky. “You can’t say no Harry! Right Chris?” Allie says glaring over at Christen.

 

“I mean, if she doesn’t wanna—“ Christen’s fiddling with the stitching on the comforter as she tries to avoid Tobin’s gaze.

 

“You’re both coming. We’re all gonna look hot and drink and dance. Now get outta my bed Harry and say goodnight.”

 

Tobin shuffles down to the end of the bed and hops off slowly making her way to the door.

 

“Harry wait you forgot your sweatshirt!” Allie says swiping the sweater off the edge of Christen’s bed and flinging it at Tobin.

 

Tobin catches it, her eyes catching Christen’s as she slowly walks over to the edge of Christen’s bed, handing her the sweat shirt.

 

She turns to Allie, “it’s Christen’s now she won it fair and square.” Tobin’s got her fingers in the air doing these ridiculous air quotes that has Allie’s eye flitting between the pair again.

 

Christen pulls the sweatshirt on, her head popping through with the hood still on, “sore loser.”

 

Allie starts laughing; hard. Tobin narrows her eyes, “you fucking knew Harry?”

 

“What that Pressy here is the best Princess Peach around?” Allie says as she hops up to get ready for bed, “of course I did! We’re roomies. Night Harry.” She says as she closes the bathroom door.

 

Tobin’s scowling as she stomps towards Christen, she kisses her hard and fast, hand wrapping behind her neck to pull her closer.

 

Tobin pulls back but only slightly, their foreheads are touching and they’re breathing the same air.

 

Christen can hear the water running and knows Allie is almost finished brushing her teeth, but she really wants more, darts her tongue out to lick across Tobin’s bottom lip, hands fisting into the fabric of her T-shirt.

 

It’s not enough.

 

“Save me a dance?” Tobin whispers the question right into Christen’s mouth, and all Christen can do is nod and wait for Friday night.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Part two? Let me know.


End file.
